HEY FRIENDS,
Have an iceberg.
It is the last in my experimental installment of ice portraits.
What I’ve learned is, it is hard for me to tone down my tendency
to enliven the page with color, to saturate
the world with dots densely…. to create these sublime, borealis-type
colors w/out spoiling the white space… that was indeed the challenge…
and I didn’t seem to meet it 100 per%cent,
but I am better informed than I was before… so i am pleased anyway.
Hi. There. Friends. I know I promised — at New Year’s star-like apex —
that I would post at least one blog-per-month for your feasting, drooling
eyes,
but, , , , , l , I…. I…may not be able to deliver on that. I’ll try still. But
but but but but
you know… I may have to take a mental health month once in awhile,
such as May 2022. When I return, it will be with dots of my
quintuplet family, whose last name I’ve decided is Khan-Dare (yes,
a hyphenate) and upon seeing it typed, looks so much like Kardashian,
it makes me sad
on a sadderday…no less)
Okay…what else is new? Spring here in the Middle-West United-States
is progressing as mother nature intended…with little white blossoms
giving way to green stumps, which twist into
real leaves as if branches are the original 3D printer we all wish we owned…
W/ bull dozers razing the public library & instead of an ice skating rink
constructing a tacky apartment so unlike a toy village it makes me
insane the day before Easter…
no bunnies in the yard yet, but BUT… BIRDS in the laundry hose!!!
BIRDS, clogging our dryer with twiglets & egglets & wing tips & goo
We cleaned their kindling kindly & no one died, though someone
may have been orphaned…I don’t know yet…
I hope the resurrection brings you shade & by that
I do not mean
the snidery of frenemies, but the cool relief
of the pill after days on the cross (made by Stryker), by the
spritz of consciousness when you faint on the
eroticon dance floor, & no one bids on your body
at auction… I will come out as an autoandrophile
when the rabbit leaves…
iceberg lettuce…
pray.
